


Heroes of the Past: The Howling Commandos (1st ed.)

by Enochianess



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Sex, Awesome Howling Commandos, Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Captain America: The First Avenger, Established Relationship, Fix-It of Sorts, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Tent Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-25 13:58:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13836225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enochianess/pseuds/Enochianess
Summary: The story of Steve and Bucky and the Howling Commandos – the true story, not the one students read about in their textbooks





	1. Prologue

 

 

"Let's hear it for Captain America!”

Steve can hear the words as if it were only yesterday, rather than seventy years ago. Staring down at the picture of Bucky, at the way his best friend had been looking at him... it sends a jolt of pain so fierce that if he wasn't sitting, Steve is sure he'd be crumpling to the ground. As it is, he cradles his coffee cup in his shaking hands and bites the inside of his cheek to stave off the tears. He can’t cry in public. He won’t.

It’s been a month in this new century and each day, rather than settling, the grief seems to get worse. He’d been ready to die when he’d crashed the Valkyrie. He’d been ready because he knew, that on the other side of the veil, Bucky was waiting for him. It’s been seventy years and he’s had no peace, found no salvation, been trapped in some unholy place, like a divine punishment, keeping him frozen beneath the world and away from Bucky. He failed Bucky on the train, and he’s failing him now. He only hopes that wherever Bucky is, he’s found peace without Steve. Is that possible? It’s not arrogance that is steering Steve’s thoughts, but a deeply profound knowledge that if it were the other way around, and it was Steve that had passed, he would not be able to rest in death until Bucky was there beside him. They were two halves of one whole, two sides of a coin, two hands reaching always, souls only settling once they could grasp and entwine. Steve had always thought that he’d give anything for them to be able to just forge themselves into one being. If only it had been possible. Maybe then, Steve would have gone down with Bucky. Maybe then, they both could have died. Maybe then, Steve wouldn’t be stuck in this hell.

He drinks the last dredges of his coffee and gets to his feet, holding his book tightly to his chest: _Heroes of the Past: The Howling Commandos (1 st ed.) _There’s so much missing, so much he could teach the world, but he won’t. No. What they did out there, what they _had_ to do… Steve figures there’s no sense in triggering nightmares in the minds of the innocent. It wasn’t all bad – of course it wasn’t. There were days, nights, where he genuinely felt happiness, no matter that they were in the middle of a war. He had his best guy beside him and Bucky could always find a light in the darkness if it meant seeing Steve smile. He’s not here now though and Steve’s not sure he even remembers what it feels like to smile. He wonders if he’ll ever feel it again. He’s not even sure he wants to because that would mean forgetting, wouldn’t it? He’d rather not smile another day in his life if it meant he’d always remember – remember everything.

He gets on the subway heading back into Brooklyn and he looks back down at the book, flicking open to that same picture of Bucky. He remembers Bucky looking at him like that, with so much fondness and warmth and love. Then he remembers the look of absolute terror and bone-chilling fear as he fell from the train and into the ravine below. He remembers his scream. He’s woken up with a matching one every night since. It’s almost like all of his good memories of them have been drowned out, consumed by that long scream that had echoed off the mountains and slowly faded away until there was nothing but the chug-chug-chug of that infernal train. Steve hates it. He can’t stand that all those precious days and weeks and months and years they had together are somehow now overshadowed by pain and fear and loss. He just wants Bucky back. He wants the love of his life back.

When Steve gets home he carefully puts the book down on the kitchen table, makes himself another coffee, and then sits down to carefully leaf through it. This time though, he grabs a pen. He grabs a pen and he writes in the margins, at some point gets up to grab a notebook, and he writes. He fills in the gaps. He writes their story – the real one. He writes.


	2. London, England

It’s dark in Steve’s room of the officers’ barracks, the narrow window adjacent to the ceiling blacked-out. There is nothing but the dim kerosene lamp that Steve has on his desk to light the small space. It makes Bucky look a little sickly: his skin drawn tight over his cheekbones, his complexion ghostly pale, dark circles beneath his eyes. He’s still beautiful though. To Steve, he will always be beautiful.

It’s the first time they’ve been properly alone since Steve had rescued the men at Azzano and he doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know what to do. Bucky seems fidgety, standing in front of Steve and just staring, eyes traversing over Steve’s much larger form, his fists clenching and unclenching, blinking oh so slowly. Since the factory, Bucky hasn’t said anything about the serum and who, or _what_ , Steve has become. Steve is itching to know what he thinks, if Bucky can still love him this way. It’s almost unbearable to think that the answer could be no.

“What are you thinking?” he whispers when he can’t take the silence any longer. “Are you mad?”

“Would it matter?”

“Of course it would, Buck.”

“But you did it anyway.”

“I didn’t have a choice! They wouldn’t let me fight. I couldn’t just sit and do nothing.”

“You could have been safe.”

Steve sighs heavily. “Buck, I wasn’t going to sit at home and wait for you like some dame.”

“Why not? Would that really be so bad?” Bucky snaps.

“I might not have even lived long enough to see you come home and you know it. Do you know what it was like for me before? Getting sick every damn winter, asthma, the pain, constantly being dismissed because I was small enough to get stepped on.”

“Of course I do. I _know,_ Steve.”

“Then you know why I did it, why I’m glad I did it.”

Bucky stares down at the floor for one quiet moment, and then he slumps. Steve immediately steps forward and pulls him into his arms, thankful that for once he can take Bucky’s weight.

“I told you not to do anything stupid,” Bucky says. He nuzzles his face into Steve’s neck, inhaling deeply and pressing a gentle kiss to his pulse point.

Steve laughs, rubbing his hands up and down Bucky’s back. Then he frowns at how prominent the knobs of his spine are, how there seems to be so much less of him now than there used to be. Perhaps though, that’s just because there’s so much more of Steve now.

“I know that I’m different, and I won’t blame you if you don’t want me this way-“

“Steve, no, that’s not-“

“-but I don’t regret it. You could have died. I’d rather you hate me and be alive.”

Bucky pulls back and takes Steve’s head carefully between his hands, thumbs brushing over Steve’s cheekbones. “Nothing in the world could make me stop wanting you. You hear me?”

Steve nods, his eyes burning as they fill with tears. “I hear you.”

Bucky clucks his tongue, brushing away the moisture at the corners of Steve’s eyes, and then leans up to press their lips together. It’s gentle at first, slow and careful as they adjust to the new height difference, as they reacquaint themselves with the feeling. Then, almost all at once, it turns deep and hot and hungry, both panting heavily, hands grasping everywhere they can reach. Steve gets shoved against the wall and their kiss goes sloppy, lips dragging over lips and chins and cheeks. Steve’s missed this – _god_ has he missed this. Bucky slides a hand to the small of Steve’s back, then down over his ass to the top of his thigh, where he pulls until Steve lifts his leg and hitches it around Bucky’s waist to let Bucky closer.

“I dreamt of this,” Bucky pants against Steve’s neck, breath hot and wet, “when I was in that damn factory. Kept me going. You were saving me long before you got there.”

Steve cries out when Bucky thrusts against him, grinding their clothed crotches together, whimpering out a soft, “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, sweetheart.”

They go still for a moment and simply stare at one another, eyelids heavy, pupils huge. There is so much love in Bucky’s eyes and Steve can’t help but think, _I’d give anything for him to always look at me like that._ Steve’s heard that eyes are the windows to the soul and he knows that if that’s true, his love for Bucky must shine from his eyes like a beacon. He’s consumed by it. It runs through his very veins. He was born to love Bucky; he’s absolutely sure of that.

“Stevie,” Bucky whispers, his voice reverent.

Steve whimpers and grips the back of Bucky’s neck to pull him close again.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Bucky murmurs, kissing Steve softly. “Who’s been taking care of you, huh?”

Steve shakes his head and kisses Bucky harder. He’d always hated Bucky’s insistence that he needed to take care of him. Steve had always been too proud, had always felt that he had too much to prove. But the past few months that he’s been without Bucky, he’s realized just how much he counted on him, just how much he needed his affections and his attention. He feels needy now, desperate, ready to let go and let Bucky take care of him again just like he always has done.

Bucky slides a hand down Steve’s chest and begins to roughly palm Steve’s cock through his uniform. “Anyone else touched you like this? You been tasting the foreign delicacies?”

“No! Of course not. Just want you. Always just wanted you,” Steve pants, rocking his hips. Then he stills as a painful thought crosses his mind. “Have you?”

“No, sweetheart. Only ever you.”

They do it the same way they always have done. They pull the sheets and pillows off the bed and lay them out on the floor. They take their time undressing each other, softly caressing newly revealed spans of skin, kissing hot and wet and deep.

“Have you got anything?” Bucky asks as he climbs on top of Steve, Steve’s legs parting to cradle Bucky’s hips.

“No,” Steve says. “Can we just- like we used to?”

“Yeah,” Bucky says, breathing heavy as he starts rolling his hips down. “Yeah, sweetheart.”

Steve moans, his hips hitching up, his eyes fluttering shut. “Bucky- Buck-“

“Feel good, baby?”

Steve can barely nod, his jaw falling slack as their cocks rub together just right. Bucky leans down and sucks harshly on the sweet spot just below Steve’s ear, lips curving into a smile when Steve shivers and moans.

“You’re so beautiful,” Bucky says when he pulls back to look down at him. “My sweetheart.”

“Yours,” Steve gasps, back arching.

Bucky pants as he begins to quicken the rocking of his hips, grabbing hold of Steve’s flailing hands that are trying to find purchase and pinning them above their heads. Bucky presses his lips to Steve’s temple, breath hot and wet, dampening the sweaty skin there even further. Steve’s thighs squeeze at Bucky’s sides as the heat in his abdomen continues to build and he lets out a short cry when Bucky slides a hand beneath him and rubs a finger against his tailbone, teasing.

“We’re gonna get some Vaseline,” Bucky gasps, “and then I’m gonna fuck you properly, just like you deserve.”

“Buck-“

Steve pulls his remaining hand out of Bucky’s hold and reaches down to grip Bucky’s ass cheeks, squeezing and pulling him harder against him. The pressure in Steve’s belly is growing and growing and Steve can’t take it much longer, too wound up, too desperate. Bucky snaps his hips faster and then Steve’s back is arching, thick ropes of come spurting from his dick as universes explode behind his eyelids. He only just manages to open his eyes to catch Bucky reaching his own release: eyes squeezed shut and mouth slack, a deep grunt escaping from deep inside his throat. Bucky finally stills and drops down on top of Steve, panting into the space between Steve’s neck and shoulder. Steve screws his face up at the sticky mess between their stomachs, but he’s glad of it anyway; it makes everything feel real and tangible. Bucky is really safe. Bucky is alive.

“You okay?” Steve asks, gently carding his fingers through Bucky’s hair.

“Mm,” Bucky murmurs, “never felt better.

Bucky rolls off Steve and onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow to look down at him. He looks better now, skin glowing in the dim light, face flushed and sweaty.

“Good job these walls are thick. You’re still loud as ever. Should have gagged you.”

Steve rolls his eyes and pushes himself up for a moment to press a short kiss to Bucky’s lips.

“I’ve missed kissing you,” Bucky says, running a finger along the curve of Steve’s bottom lip. “Missed everything.”

“Me too, Buck.”

“You got anywhere to be tonight?”

“Yeah. Colonel Philips has tasked me with creating an elite combat squad to take down Hydra. Gotta go ask the men I’ve chosen if they’ll serve alongside me.”

Bucky frowns, fingers tracing patterns over Steve’s chest. “What about me?”

“I want you as my second in command, if you’ll have me.”

“Colonel Philips said I could go home. Honorable discharge after Azzano.”

“Do you wanna take it?” Steve asks, a sinking feeling in his stomach. He’d give anything for them to go home and he knows how much Bucky must want it too, but he can’t help but be desperate for Bucky to stay alongside him. It’s selfish, but he doesn’t want to do this without his best friend.

“No. I’m not going anywhere without you.”

Steve smiles and pulls Bucky down to kiss him again. “Now look at who’s being stupid,” he whispers against Bucky’s lips.

“Got it from you, pal.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “So, is that a yes? You’ll be my sergeant.”

“Of course I will, sweetheart. It’s you and me till the end of the line, right?”

“Right,” Steve says, smiling.

They clean up and get dressed quickly, luckily managing to leave the barracks without being seen. Steve doesn’t want to have to answer any questions, especially not when it comes to him and Bucky. He’s never been a good liar. Bucky was always the one covering their tracks.

“So, who else have you got in mind for this unit of yours?” Bucky asks as he lights a cigarette.

“Your men: Falsworth, Dernier, Jones, Dum Dum, Morita.”

Bucky beams. “Good men. Seems like you’re smarter than you look.”

“Hey,” Steve says, rolling his eyes, “stop being a jerk.”

Steve kicks a loose bit of brick as they start walking down street towards the pub. It’s mostly clear, little rubble on the pavements, no houses collapsed – not in this area, but down countless other streets in countless other parts of the city. There’s a distinct feeling of melancholy, Steve thinks, but an even stronger sense of defiance and strength in the way that the British carry on, dust off their clothes, and keep putting one foot in front of the other day after day. There are still people laughing, men and women walking close together holding hands, people dancing and drinking in pubs. There’s a refusal there – a refusal to lie down and show their bellies. They’re strong. They have to be, Steve supposes. Everybody does.

Seeing the damage in the city, seeing a toy amongst the dirt, the pale, dirtied face of a doll that has been left behind, probably dropped in the hurry to get down into the tube station during an air raid… it drives everything home. People are dying. They are dying every damn day by the thousands. Bucky had been so close to being one of them. Steve can’t stand it. Civilians: women, _children_. They’re all at risk. They’re all dying.

Steve is going to do his best to stop it. He’s not going to let this go on. He’s going to defeat Hitler himself if it’s what it takes.

“Cap!” one of the men calls out when Steve steps into the pub.

Steve smiles, walking over to a small group of the soldiers, glad for the heat of the building and the happy, upbeat song being played on the piano. They’re his men – the ones he’s chosen for his elite combat unit.

Bucky follows close behind him, just like always, and they both pull a stool over and sit side by side at the small table. Steve is nervous and immediately turns to look at Bucky.

“Boys,” Bucky says, smiling, “it’s good to see you not in a cage.”

The men laugh and Steve lets out a sigh of relief, knocking his foot against Bucky’s in thanks.

“Steve-o here has a proposition for ya,” Bucky says.

“Oh?” Falsworth says.

“Let’s have it then,” Dum Dum says as he drains the last of his beer.

“I’ll be by the bar,” Bucky whispers in Steve’s ear as he gets up. “I’ll get you a drink.”

Steve nods and then turns back to the other men. He’s expecting them to be hesitant to say yes, or to just outright refuse, but instead it takes little to nothing to convince them to jump back into the fray with him. They’re good, honest men – just like Bucky said – ready to stop at nothing to save the world from the evil that is taking over. Steve feels good about the prospect of fighting alongside them, feels confident in the knowledge that they’ll have his and, more importantly, Bucky’s back if need be. He’s glad everything is coming together. He wanted men that he could trust, men that could work together seamlessly as a team, and he thinks he’s got that now. They’ll be out in the field in less than a week. Steve is ready for it. He’s ready to take down every HYDRA bastard they find. He won’t let them win. He can’t.

“See, I told you: they’re all idiots,” Bucky says when Steve slides onto the stool next to him.

“How about you?” Steve asks, even though he already knows the answer. He just has to ask again. Just to make sure. Just to hear Bucky say it. “You ready to follow Captain America into the jaws of death?”

“Hell no. That little guy from Brooklyn who was too dumb not to run away from a fight – I’m following him.”

Steve looks down shyly, biting down on his bottom lip and twisting his hands together in his lap to stop himself from reaching out. He’s sated from their earlier sex, but he’s still desperate for Bucky’s touch, for reassurance that Bucky still wants him. Everyone wants a piece of him now that he’s… well, whatever it is that he is now. The epitome of masculinity, he supposes. He’s _wanted_ now, in a way that he never has been before. But Bucky – he’s always wanted Steve. It feels good to know that things haven’t changed, that Bucky still wants him just the same, not because of who he is now, but because of the man he used to be – the man he still is.

“But you’re keeping the outfit, right?” Bucky says, teasing.

“You know what, it’s kinda grown on me,” Steve replies, smirking as he looks up at the poster of him on the wall.

Bucky opens his mouth to speak, his eyes gleaming the same way they had in the barracks, but then a hush falls upon the pub and Bucky swivels on his stool to look further into the room. Steve feels his mouth drop open at the sight of Agent Carter, _Peggy,_ walking towards them in a bright red dress that makes his heart beat at double time.

“Captain,” she says, nodding to him.

Steve can feel the way Bucky is looking between them and it makes Steve fiercely uncomfortable, though he fights to keep it from his face.

“Agent Carter,” he says.

“Ma’am,” Bucky murmurs, his eyes now falling to Peggy’s dress. Steve would slap him, but never in front of Peggy.

“Howard has some equipment for you to try tomorrow morning,” she says to Steve.

“Sounds good.”

“I see your top squad is preparing for duty,” Peggy says derisively.

Steve smiles, looking over to where Dum Dum and Gabe are in the middle of an arm wrestling match, beers sloshing as they’re pushed to one side of the table, whilst the others cheer them on.

“You don’t like music?” Bucky asks, snatching Steve’s attention again.

“I do actually,” Peggy says, her gaze shifting to lock with Steve’s. “I might even, when this is all over, go dancing.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Bucky says.

Steve wants to strangle him. _Not here,_ he can’t help but think. He had to share Bucky with half the women of Brooklyn back home and he doesn’t want to have to do the same thing here – especially not with Peggy.

“The right partner,” Peggy says, smiling softly, then, “0800 Captain.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be there,” Steve says a little tightly.

“I’m invisible,” Bucky says. “I-I’m turning into you. It’s like a horrible dream.”

Steve smirks at Bucky’s remark, feeling a little bit smug, and pats him on the shoulder. “Don’t take it so hard. Maybe she’s got a friend.”

Bucky’s expression goes dark then and he turns to scowl at Steve. “If you think we’re going back to that same old sing and dance, you can think again. I’m stuck in one kind of hell already, I won’t return to that one too.”

“Buck, I don’t want to either,” Steve says.

“You like her?”

Steve swallows thickly. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Fuck,” Bucky mutters under his breath.

“Buck, I like her, but I love _you.”_

“You touched her? Were you lying earlier?”

“No! Bucky, I would never. You know that. You know me.”

Bucky nods, turning to look at Steve. “You tell me if things change. Okay?”

“What do you mean?” Steve frowns.

“She could give you a good life: marriage and kids, a white picket fence. If you want that, I won’t fault ya.”

“Buck, no. Stop it.”

“Steve,” Bucky says, his face softening sadly, “we can’t do this forever.”

“Yes we can,” Steve says stubbornly.

Bucky stares at him for a moment and then nods, looking down into his whiskey. “We’ll work it out later, buddy. For now, I guess we got a job to do. We’ve got a war to win.”

They finish their drinks quietly and then part ways with a soft goodnight. Steve doesn’t want to leave Bucky, not after only just getting him back, but in a few days they’ll be together again. In a few days, they start their mission: taking down HYDRA. Steve is ready. He’s ready to fight for what’s right. He’s ready to do whatever it takes, as long as he’s got Bucky by his side. If Bucky is by his side, Steve can do anything.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it, please leave kudos and/or comments x


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